


The Librarians and the Wizards of the Folly

by 0positiv



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch, The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: because it needed to be done, crossover fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 10:25:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8746873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0positiv/pseuds/0positiv
Summary: What it says on the tin ;)





	

“Are they _actually_ poking it with a stick?”

Nightingale sounded as close to disgusted as I'd ever heard him so I chanced looking away from the perky Americans who were, as a matter of fact, poking the werelight I'd conjured for them with something that looked like a stick, and found him doing a graceful – Captain-Picard-like if you wish – facepalm. (Nightingale would later insist that facepalm isn't a word, of course.)

“It's actually a magical thermometer, kind of”, Colonel Baird told him with a fond smile aimed at her Librarians. She was one fierce momma bear, in my eyes, and I did my very best not to blow her cups up and incur her wrath. Also hence why they were all wearing safety goggles to poke at the werelight which I had made as dim as I could so they wouldn't ruin their eyes looking at it. I am very health and safety conscious when doing magic, most of the time.

“It's measuring the output of magic, um, magically.”

The look my gov shot her for that not quite helpful explanation would have made a less military person (aka me) look away sheepishly. Col. Baird just shrugged and told him that she was the Guardian and if he wanted to know more details he should ask the Librarians.

“You mean the children currently shooting you looks to see if you'd let them touch the werelight with their bare hands?”

At his dry-as-the-Sahara observation all our eyes shot back to the three very guilty looking Librarians who quickly put their hands back down and tried to look innocent. Cassandra actually managed that very well, if I was any judge. I'm not sure Ezekiel would be able to pull off innocent to a copper if his life depended on it and Jacob's version kind of only made him look like he had indigestion.

When Baird shot them a withering look I let the werelight go out and took a step away, just to be out of the line of fire.

“And this is exactly why they need a Guardian. Are you done with whatever that was supposed to accomplish?”

Cassandra checked her magical thermometer stick with a critical eye then nodded.

“Yes, I think we've got enough data from this piece of magic.” Her eyes flickered up to Nightingale and then over to Baird before returning to look at her to colleagues. “Um, but of course just one sample isn't statistically significant, not that two would be more statistically significant but it would still be better than one especially if...”

Mostly to shut off her babbling Nightingale with a long-suffering look (one usually aimed at me when I proposed an experiment) conjured a werelight and _iactus_ -ed it over until it was floating in front of our guests. The childlike wonder on their faces was kind of endearing and also kind of scary since they were supposedly in charge of the biggest collection of magical artefacts in the world. Talk about children in a candy store...

Cassandra had actually started to raise her hand again but stopped and blushed a bit when Baird cleared her throat. She raised the thermometer instead and took her reading of Nightingale's werelight.

Now that I didn't have to concentrate on keeping up a _forma_ any longer I tried to unobtrusively feel any _vestigia_ those three might be carrying around. I'm pretty sure you can't live and work in a magical library without that leaving some kind of magical residue. And in any way it's good practice.

Cassandra was closest to me so I concentrated on her first. _Cupcakes, black board chalk, and a hint of sadness. Magic, definitely magic as well._ I was pretty sure she wasn't a practitioner in the Newtonian kind of sense , it wasn't a _signare_ I was feeling and there wasn't this kind of _vestigium_ to the other practitioners I've met so far but she had definitely used magic before. Most likely some of those artefacts they ran around collecting?

Next was Jacob. _Canvas, oil paint maybe, the sound of angry fists hitting a punching bag. Magic on him as well but more in a passive way._ Jacob saw me looking at him and gave me a grumpily whispered _What?_ with his brows drawing together in a way that made me shrug and shake my head and then quickly look away. I had no plans to get into any fist fights today.

Ezekiel, now there was a name you wouldn't thank your parents for. For one I bet they misspelt it at Starbucks every time and for the other who would want to be named after a biblical prophet? There were _vestigia_ on him as well, of course. _That sound coins make coming out of slot machines, police sirens, the nearly electrical moment when the adrenaline hits your system. More magic, in a sneaky way. I was sure he has been using it more than he was supposed to._

It as usually left me with more questions than answers but at least by this point I had more than enough experience to be sure that they had actually been _vestigia_ and not just my imagination running wild.

Cassandra pulled the stick out of the werelight and Nightingale promptly let it vanish.

“If we are finished here I think Molly has prepared dinner and it would be impolite to let it get cold.”

Neither of us had any objections to that so we followed Nightingale up to the dining room where true to form all the places were laid with the fine china and there was enough food to feed an army.

“Are you expecting more guests than us”, Baird asked with a bit of a confused frown on her face.

“Nah, Molly just likes to cook, she always makes this much. Don't ask me what she does with the left overs, I am not sure we want to know.”

As if on cue Molly came gliding in with a bottle of wine she solemnly presented to Nightingale and at his nod vanished with it again, most likely to decant it. (And just by me knowing that one decants red wine you can tell that spending time with Nightingale is rubbing off on me, next I'll actually sound all posh and whose grammar will he correct then? He'll be very bored.)

The Librarians were watching her leave with barely concealed curiosity. I didn't want them to ask us any questions about Molly so I decided to distract them by asking about their thermometer stick.

“So, it measures magic magically? I mean, I can tell it's not technology, at least nothing with a computer chip, because magic tends to fry those...”

Which of course lead to lengthy discussions about my experiments with calculators over dinner and the very fine red wine Molly had chosen.

Nightingale alternately looked bored or like he was wishing he'd never let those Americans anywhere near me to give me ideas. I, on the other hand, was trying to come up with a good way to ask him to let me visit that Library of theirs. It sounded fascinating.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I might get around to writing Nightingale and Peter in the Library but if anyone else wants to take a shot at it go ahead ;)


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